


Methods of Error Correction, in Order of Preference

by T Verano (t_verano)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: sentinel_thurs, Gen, Sentinel Thursday, TSbyBS angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2020-03-09 02:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18907918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: TSbyBS and ways it could have been avoided.





	Methods of Error Correction, in Order of Preference

**Author's Note:**

> Written for recycled Sentinel Thursday challenge 399 'white out'

**Method 1** (preferred): _Boot up computer. Start word processing software. Open document in question. Delete mistake(s). Retype correctly. Hit "Print."_

"Jim. Listen, you think your boss would go for me hanging around with you at work so I could start getting the material for —"

"For your paper about me? First off, you say one word about this crap to him, and I'll —"

"Relax, okay? My thesis isn't going to be about you. I know I said that to start with, but it won't work. For one thing, if I spend the kind of time with you I'm going need to spend, anybody with two brain cells to rub together would be able to read the diss and know it was about you, no matter how I tried to protect your privacy. Not to mention —"

"Wait, hold up. I thought you were all about fame and fortune here, Sandburg. TV interviews. Movie rights."

"Give me a break, all right? That was adrenaline talking. Sure, fame and fortune would be nice, but I want to be able to sleep at night, too, and it's pretty clear you wouldn't get off on turning up on CNN because you've been outed as a Sentinel."

"You're not wrong about that. So, this means you're not going to help me out here, then? If you're not getting anything out of it?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I'm going to help you, Jim. You _need_ my help, man. You're going to be helping me too, okay? There's an incredible amount I can learn from working with you, even if it's not something I can publish until I can find some way that keeps you completely out of it. But the thing is, my committee's actually going to be relieved if I switch my diss topic. I figure I can get a lot of mileage out of comparing Burton's solitary tribal watchmen with our society's current tribal watchmen, who happen to be cops, which also happens to make a great cover for spending time with you when you're on the job, right? So we just need your boss to go along with it."

"Simon Banks go along with you tagging along with me? Because of some paper comparing cops to, what did you say, 'tribal watchmen?' You're delusional, Chief."

"Look, I will dress up in an evening gown like J. Edgar Hoover if you think it will help…"

 

 **Method 2** (alternate method; use with caution): _Remove paper from typewriter carriage. Apply Wite-out (tm) or similar correction fluid to any mistake(s). Type or hand print corrections on document after fluid has thoroughly dried._

"Uh, Jim. Hey. You wanted to read this before I submitted it, so, uh, here it is."

"Here _what_ is… Crap. This is your paper, isn't it? On the 'Sentinel.' On me. Terrific."

"It's my diss, yeah. It's not… it's not what you think, though. I sort of… uh… look, just read it, okay? I mean, I know you don't want to, but at least read the first chapter."

"I've already read the first chapter. Thanks, but no thanks."

"Jim, c'mon. It's not the same chapter anymore, trust me. I really need you to read this. Please."

"Sandburg…. Hell, all right. Hand it over."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

"So, what do you think?"

"Some pretty fancy footwork going on here, Chief."

"Yeah, well. I'm kind of between a rock and a hard place, Jim. If I can keep all of this tied strictly to Alex, I can still get the information out there and keep you completely out of it. Everything in here is documented, the data is solid; I just…obscured the attribution of the data, basically."

"Uh-huh. Anybody who reads this is going to assume —"

"That my subject couldn't possibly be you. That's the whole point."

"I thought the whole point was academic honor, you becoming Dr. Sandburg."

"I'm protecting the privacy of my primary source, Jim — which is _you_ — what else do you want me to do? And this stuff needs to be published, if I can do it safely. Alex needed help. I'm not talking moral compass here, no matter how much she could've used that, I'm talking practical help with her senses. Think about it, man. You, her — two people with all five senses enhanced, ending up here in Cascade at the same time; statistically, there _have_ to be more people out there going through the same kind of changes with their senses that you and Alex went through. This stuff could help them."

"I guess."

"So, you okay with this? Getting this research out there is important, but we had a deal, and I need to know you're okay with this…"

 

 **Method 3** (recommended only in cases of extreme emergency): _Hit "Backspace" key on typewriter keyboard. Hit "Strikethrough" key._

"My thesis, 'The Sentinel,' is a fraud."


End file.
